Last Voyage of Lilicrow
by GambitGirl07
Summary: From the "Misadventures of Lilicrow" series. MMORPG Character based.... Time doesn't heal all wounds. Rated on very safe side for language, character death and seriously implied impending death. Not terribly graphic, though.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER and Authors Notes: It's AU--My Universe to be exact. Blending a few different tragedies into one char and warping Mclon to encompass all the drama. He kinda sucks these days, but I can't stand to write him any way but heroic. Sony Online Entertainment owns them--Lilicrow Crimsonslayer is my own creation, Mclon, Serantha, Wulolas, Purrilia, and Mirisa belong to people who's names I actually know-I do however borrow them for my own wickedness on occasion. Most of the time, I even give them back. No one pays me for my drabble, and if they did, I'd just sink it back into subscription fees. Please don't sue me, or if you must, kindly get in line and patiently wait your turn.

'…' denotes thoughts

* * *

Over the centuries she had become a mistress of loss; sorrow and loneliness seemed to be her constant companions. Many considered her loyalty to be among her chief virtues. For her, it was the foundation of her greatest pain. Following every loss she would swear to herself, upon her treasured bow, that it would never happen again. Each vow was made in earnest, even as she knew it would never be so. Her very nature insisted that there must always be someone, just one creature, that she would confide in and place all of her faith in. Her soul craved a singular intimacy that would never waiver, and in some respects, she sought the disappointment when it inevitably did. Of course, she had close confidants, some were even immortal, as was she. Serantha, the sister she'd never had, was ever present. For a High Elf and a mage, she wasn't half bad, lacking the arrogance that often accompanied those more accomplished in the supernatural arts. Wulolas, sage and wise druid, would never fail to drop in for a visit just when she needed him most. Mirisa Runningbear, clever and witty shaman, somehow devoid of the passionate temper of her Barbarian heritage. Cherished friends from before her adolescence, they were dear to her of course, but they were not the cause of her distress. The groundwork of her misery had been set many decades before, beneath the trees of Kelethin…

_Flashback_

The raid on Crushbone had been invigorating and adrenaline still pumped through her system. She'd broken from the group hours ago, bid Serantha farewell and trekked back to the tree city of her ancestors. Meticulously she had cleaned her body of the sweat, gore, and grime of yet another successful raid. She'd carefully stitched the three inch gash that had stretched its way across her upper arm - that was going to be another scar. That poor orc was so proud of himself as his blade had split her skin; she was more proud when her Axe of the Iron Back split his skull. Methodically, blood and entrails were scrubbed and scoured from her armor and weapons, followed by a reshaping and honing of the blades and a polish all around. Once she was certain that she could, in fact see herself in the metallic surfaces, she laid down to slip into a blissfully dream-free sleep. At least, that had been the plan. A half hour of tossing and turning and she knew rest was not forthcoming. Peering outside and seeing that the sun had not yet risen, she pulled her weary bones from her bed. 'What to do, what to do?' Eyes falling to her desk, she settled for fletching 5 dozen arrows to refill her quivers. Years of experience had their drawbacks as that only killed about two hours. Another moment to test the stringing of her bow, as always, it remained true. Still, she could not rest. Perhaps a walk through the forests below would bring sleep for her.

'Just one more quick stroll through the "newbie yard" and then I'll hit the bank,' she chided herself. Of course, she'd only said this about ten times already. She knew she was restless and trying to avoid settling down for some much needed rest. Wulolas was not due to breeze through town again for a few more days so she couldn't even count on him for a quick workout. Auctions were never very interesting this time of day; no one was yet willing to drop their prices by even a few copper. Still she took comfort that there would always be a youngster in need of a little back up. So long as no one trained a rabbit across her path, she was more than willing to help out. 'Rabbits….' she thought with a shudder, 'They're not all cute tails and twitchy noses, ya know.'

Somehow, above the hustle and bustle that was ubiquitous even below the Elven city, a distinct voice caught her attention. There was nothing particularly special about this voice, mind you, but something about it piqued her interest. Vaguely, it registered to her mind that the tone of voice could not possibly belong to any elf. There was a deep and gruff tenor that told her…perhaps… dwarf? Guild formations were increasingly common these days and Kelethin had become a sort of haven for all who were wishing to head their own little armies. Again she heard it, "Slayers of the Realm is now recruiting!! All races and classes!! Below "newbie lift!" Before she knew it, her feet were on the path to the so-called "newbie lift', on the path that would change her life. If she'd had known then what she knew now, the smart thing, the only thing she could have done would have been to run in any other direction.

Rounding the small hill just before the city, she allowed her senses to begin focusing, seeking out her prey. The crowd was fairly light for this hour so upon arriving at her destination she need only wait. Surely a true guild barker would not stop after only a few announcements. All of a sudden, all of her senses were assaulted by the deep timbre of "that voice". She turned and instantly found herself standing face to face, well, face to chest with the owner of the voice she could now pluck from all the voices of Kelethin. This was certainly no dwarf. She silently thanked Tunare that he couldn't possibly see her because she was fairly certain she was standing mouth agape and perhaps drooling a bit.

Standing before her was a rare sight in Kelethin, even with the massive influx of immigrants now flooding the city. A Barbarian, true and whole. It's not that his ilk were not welcome in Kelethin, more a matter of the climate. As a people, the Halasians preferred the frozen plains that inhabitants of the tree city considered wastelands. But here, in all of his glory, and oh how glorious he was, stood a strapping young Barbarian. She stared at him for a moment, taking in the vibrant blue kilt that looked absolutely nothing like a skirt on him. The broad breastplate covering the large expanse of his chest matched the hue of his kilt , but glistened with a metallic sheen. In all respects, the pair were polar opposites. Petite, light eyes and blonde hair pulled in a tight ponytail cascading along her spine; lithe and preferring the shadows of the forests of the Greater Faydark, she was the definition of Elven grace. He however was tall, thick with muscles and sinew, dark hair and eyes, a warrior through and through. While she proudly wore the marks of her race and caste, she briefly wondered why he was without the woad customary of his people. She was momentarily reminded of the polar bears she'd seen in her travels. From that moment on, in her mind he was the "Bear King". 'Now or never', she thought.

"So, Slayers of the Realm, huh?" she queried, hoping she wasn't blushing too terribly. "Hm… and who might you be, little one?" he replied with a nod. "Lilicrow Crimsonslayer… Your new favorite ranger." she retorted with a smirk that she hoped was flirty, maybe even sexy, with a hint of "dangerous" thrown in for good measure. She feared it was actually more like shy, terrified, and slightly moronic. She just couldn't bring herself to tell him that she was older than he could ever imagine.

She had joined the guild after a brief "audition" as he'd called it, and from that moment they were together whenever possible. She learned all she could of Mclon Rabbitslayer, and found even his name to be pleasing to her. Her "Bear King" banished the bunnies who so plagued her existence, and never once teased her for her "bunny fear" as he called it. He took it very seriously and tolerated no mockery from anyone else. He kept her secrets and trusted her with his own.

Of course there were skirmishes that kept them apart for extended periods of time, and the occasional family business left them unable to reunite for months on end, but somehow, the day always came when she would look up and there he would stand. Each time they were brought back together, it was if no time had passed at all. They would revel in showing off new skills and new spells garnered during their travels, exchange updates about various guild members and general gossip from their respective home cities. Their relationship defied designation. Most watching them would think they were a couple; if they were, it was without verbal agreement. They each kept their own houses in separate cities, but they were used more as inn rooms on whatever continent the two were hunting. Most of the time, they could be spotted staying together in makeshift camps. By definition, she was his second in command, running the guild in his absence. The lower ranking members jokingly referred to her as the "Uncrowned Queen" of the Slayers. No matter how you classified them, he was her leader, her most trusted confidante, and her omnipresent guardian. He protected her fiercely and she would have gladly laid her life down for him; and in fact had, but only temporarily thanks to a few handy resurrection potions.

_End Flashback_

Standing on the deck of the Maiden's Voyage IV, she closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of the salty sea spray on her face. Certainly portals were an infinitely faster method of travel, but Lilicrow was an old soul and always held a preference for the ships of old. Her mind idly wandered back to the original Maiden's Voyage she rode over a century ago, before the Plane of Knowledge portals opened up planar travel in the blink of an eye. She tried to avoid the settling of her gaze upon the horizon, knowing what she would find. The snow had begun to fall in somber silence, coming to rest in small banks upon the deck. Halas could clearly be seen in the distance, and was growing closer as the wind increased. She allowed her stare to fix itself on a particularly uninteresting mound, trying to ignore the tightening in her chest. Breaking from her reverie she stood rigid while the other passengers hurried to depart the ship. Nearly a hundred years ago, she'd sworn never to return to this place. This was his city, it no longer had anything to offer her but pain and memories she'd spent an age desperate to forget. Staring at the gates for an epoch, she was still unable to force her legs to move. She was more than hesitant, not uneasy exactly, and scared was not the correct word either. Blind terror was a much more accurate description. The woman who used the fabled Estate of Unrest as her playground was sickened and horrorstruck by a town in which only one ghost could harm her. Knowing the ship would be docked for quite some time, she spun on her heel and made for the cargo hold. All of a sudden, now seemed like the perfect time to check on her horse.

_Flashback_

As the next round of Dwarven Ale was placed before her, Lili couldn't help but wonder why nearly every raid with Serantha ended in a bar in Kaladim. Even more perplexing was how Serantha always managed to "accidentally" stumble upon untold numbers of "lost dungeons" ripe for the plunder. It had become a bit of a game between them; Serantha would beg Lili to join her, feeding her the line about desperate need of a ranger and "her rangerly skills", Lili would always refuse out right, knowing she'd be packing up her quivers to join her sister and her rag-tag family of raiders. The Kerran Beastlord, Purrilia was always kind and blessedly devoid of fleas. Purrilia would make a point of smacking Lili with her tail, and Lili was always certain to scratch incessantly in her presence. That's how their peers knew that they truly were fond of each other.

Today's little adventure was definitely going down in the "BUST" category. A single gem and a cache of weapons only fit for Serantha's elemental pets were the only spoils to be found this day. As an apology, the afternoon festivities would be on Serantha. Lilicrow kept her pace a slow crawl, knowing that Serantha had no tolerance. She was very devoted to her magical erudition, and rarely drank enough to impair her control. Gradually, as it always did, the conversation shifted to Mclon. Lili recounted how he had once again drifted off to act as muscle on a reconnaissance mission on the continent of Kunark. The forces of the Elven nations were once again gathering to attempt to reclaim the port city of Fironia Vie. Serantha remarked that he would undoubtedly be bored with so little action. Lili agreed wholeheartedly, but luckily he was expected back within the month.

An abrupt, unsettling silence engulfed the bar as a hulking woman lurched through the heavy wooden doors. One look at her and it was obvious that her stumbling was not the result of drink. This was a hardened Barbarian champion, not a inebriated lout found in back alleys. Her long red hair fell in a thick braid down her back, and her deep red woad, once unmistakably beautiful was now marred by a thick scar bisecting it nearly perfectly. Beneath her chain mail kilt, the instantly recognizable cloth of a makeshift bandage was visible. Lilicrow was thunderstruck to realize that she recognized the warrior as a Slayer, and it pained her that she could not recall her name. With great distress Lilicrow realized that seeing this Slayer here could not bode well, and with dogged determination, she stood for the forthcoming report. The soldier spotted Lilicrow immediately and quickly made her way across the bar. The only sign of pain she showed was a slight glint in her eyes, that only the truly war-tested would recognize. It did not escape Lilicrow's attention.

No verbal report would be given. The much taller Barbarian simply stood steadfast before the deceptively fragile looking Elf. Locking gazes for an uncomfortable moment, the warrior lost out to the part of her that was woman, and dropped her eyes to the floor. She could not voice it, it was far too terrible to fathom. Wordlessly, nearly breathlessly, she raised a parchment and placed it in Lilicrow's hand. Bowing slightly at the waist, she took her leave, unable to bear witness to what would unfold.

Knowing what she held in her hand was the worst part of it all, being certain in her soul before she'd seen any real proof. She could feel the band which was holding the scroll closed. She was unable to look at the ring, and worse still, she did not need to, knowing she would find the seal of the griffon, the mark which acted as Mclon's family crest. Gathering all of her resolve, she removed the ring and unrolled the parchment. Calmly, almost sightlessly she read the account of how Mclon had fallen. Cold and precise words of how a patrol of Drachnids had stumbled across the camp, how everyone was so certain that the entire squadron of abominations had been destroyed. How it became painfully obvious that at least one had escaped the slaughter as the forces of Fironia Vie swarmed down upon the tiny camp. Proud but not arrogant words followed, detailing how despite being hit with three arrows he'd still managed to defeat four Dragoon Lieutenants before being overcome by six foes. Even with those numbers, it was still suspected that he'd fallen to a yet unknown poison from the arrows that he'd had little resistance to. She clutched the ring in her hand knowing there was no possibility of a mistake, the ring had been taken from his body as proof. Further evidence came as the scroll was marked with the crest of the Slayers. Slowly, as if in a dream, the parchment fell from her hand and she blindly made her way from the bar.

Certain she was already aware of what she would find, Serantha plucked the scroll from the crumb and bone littered floor. Taking a quick look, she picked the words Mclon, lost, and burial. Affixed at the bottom was a seal that she recognized easily. She'd seen that griffon before tattooed on her comrade's shoulder. The tribal bird was the sign of the Slayers. Carefully, she rolled the scroll and placed it in her backpack. She orders a stout Halasian brew, elemental control be damned, she hurt for her friend. Lili would need time alone, and Serantha knew where she would find her.

Three hours later, Serantha enters the grounds of the legendary Estate of Unrest. Mere steps onto the property, the remnants of scarecrows, were bats, and the odd zombie are scattered about. One zombie corpse in particular disturbs Serantha; it's obvious that at one time it was a Barbarian male. An arrow with Lili's tell-tale red fletchings is embedded nearly completely between it's eyes. For some reason, Lili wanted that specific creature to die quickly. Brambles can be seen, all that's left of her preferred rooting traps. 'At least I know she's been here.' But it's of little comfort. The walk through the mansion is uneventful, though more than a little disgusting as she tries to avoid severed appendages. 'Girl always favored the zombies.' Making her way to the master suite, she finds Lilicrow. The floor is thick with dust so Serantha is unable to locate the essence from the spirit that Lili must have vanquished to take up residence in the room. Seated upon what could easily be described as a throne, Lilicrow stared into space, seeing nothing. She was such a heartbreaking picture that Serantha wondered if the spirit had not been dispatched at all, but had rather recognized in the Elf a kindred spirit, completely devoid of hope.

Strolling purposefully to stand at her side, Serantha clasps a hand on the smaller Elf's shoulder. "We make for the tundra, then?" she asked, keeping pity from her voice but loading it with empathy.

"All I once had in Halas is gone." Lilicrow replied coldly. Seeing the hollowness in her eyes and the defeat in her tone, Serantha swore an oath to herself to never mention his name again. She knew her friend, she would force aside the pain of this loss and focus on her work. Hone her skills, lock away all emotion. Certainly she'd become a better ranger, but at what cost?

Lilicrow silently rose, taking her place at the mage's side. Serantha summoned a portal that would take them both back to Kelethin. She would settle Lili in as best she could and travel on to Felwithe from there. Lilicrow may need her now, but she would not allow anyone close for quite some time. She would bury this loss even as his family buried his corpse. What frightened the High Elf most was that with the pain, Lilicrow would undoubtedly bury a piece of her soul.

_End Flashback_

The ship had been docked for over two hours. Mirisa Runningbear was quite certain she'd not missed her exiting the ship, and just to be sure, she'd questioned the dockhands. No one had seen the Elf depart the ship. She had however learned that the only Wood Elf on the voyage was not blonde, rather she had long dark brown hair falling in soft waves to her waist. As she crested the ramp, the deckhands all tilted their heads toward the entrance to the cargo bay. 'Guess they know who I'm lookin' for'. "Looking for Lilicrow, best tracker on Norrath and in top five on Luclin!" she shouted down into the hold. "Top three! Planar raid three months ago took out two. Meet us at the bottom of the ramp.", was her flippant reply.

Quick greetings and hugs are followed by a quiet walk through the city. Sights and sounds that once made her heart soar now seemed to crush it like a frail bird. She dared not raise her eyes to the guild house. Boarding her horse at the local stable, she slowly breaks away from Mirisa, walking a path she'd never taken before. The young shaman knows better than to attempt to sway her. Even getting the Elf to journey to Halas was nearly impossible. She follows the Elf, knowing full well that her presence was not necessary, nor was it discouraged.

'Past the city, just before the Everfrost.' Following her feet, Lilicrow finds herself outside of the city with no real knowledge of how she go there. Of course she'd been here before, decades ago, but that was just a formality. All of the higher ranking guild members paid respects to every fallen comrade. Mclon had laughed at the extra cloak she'd packed then. Today, she wore no cloak, the cold could no longer reach her.

Finally lifting her eyes, she saw it. A solitary claymore stands embedded deeply in the permafrost, shadowed by a larger than life statue. She studies the statue and notes each imperfection. The nose is a smidge too wide, the shoulders aren't quite wide enough, nowhere near enough muscle in the arms or legs. All in all, though, it's a good likeness. And there, faced with his image, a solitary tear rolls down her cheek. After nearly a century, that single tear is enough to crush her resolve and open the flood gates.

Standing back, not daring to intrude upon the moment, Mirisa watches for a moment. As she sees the sobs wrack the shoulders of her friend, she takes a few steps back and quietly takes her leave. This is a moment that requires solitude even if Lilicrow could never be aware of her presence. The deep, mournful wails are soul wrenching, and the Barbarian can stand it no longer. Undoubtedly, there would be tales told of the painful moans heard on the tundra that day. She continues to sob long after the tears have stopped coming. They have frozen in their tracks down her cheeks, but she makes no move to wipe them away.

She simply stands and walks out into the Everfrost, not looking back.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer and Authors Notes afterward.

* * *

As the hour grew late, Mirisa Runningbear began to worry. Lilicrow had not returned from the burial site and she had begun to fear the worst. Against her better judgment, she grabbed a torch and made her way to the cemetery. Unable to tell if it was disappointment or relief at not finding her there, she did the only thing she could think of. If Lilicrow didn't want to be found, it would be difficult, if not impossible to do so. Serantha's magical arsenal was better equipped than the young Shaman's for locating her through supernatural means.

Upon receiving the scroll from Mirisa's messenger, Serantha immediately teleported to Kelethin. Racing to Lilicrow's house, Serantha prayed she'd find her friend sitting before the fire. Sobbing, drinking, reading; anything at all would do, just as long as she was there.

The house was dark as Serantha arrived at the front door. The lilies in the window boxes that had always been so well manicured were shriveled. Something was DEFINITELY wrong. Glancing around to be certain no one would witness her action, Serantha sent a tiny lightning bolt into the keyhole to force the lock to Lilicrow's abode. The inside of the house was just as disturbing as the outside. Nothing remained; all the furniture, every picture, every piece of sculpture and artwork was gone. The only thing Lilicrow had left when she abandoned her home was a glass dome covering a single white and blue rose bud which sprouted from a thin sheet of ice. Gently picking up the dome and it's contents, Serantha prayed that it would be enough for the locator spell to take her to Lilicrow.

Lilicrow had been wandering through the blinding snow for so long that she had lost all track of time. Fingering the ring hanging from the chain around her neck, she was so lost in thought that she failed to notice the familiar "whooshing" sound and faint sulfuric smell that accompanied the portal being opened behind her. Stepping through the portal, Serantha was pleased that the locator spell had been successful.

She sent up a silent thanks to the fates that had caused Lilicrow to leave the flower behind. Realizing that Lilicrow hadn't been aware of her presence, Serantha quickly summoned yet another portal directly in front of her companion. Lilicrow was so engrossed in whatever memories she was replaying in her mind that she stepped right through. Serantha quickly followed her through.

Looking up, Lilicrow was startled to find herself back at Mclon's grave site. Turning, she saw Serantha stepping through the portal just as it was closing. Absolute hatred was written all over the faces of both Elven women. Lilicrow was furious that Serantha had forced her to abandon her self destruction. Serantha was livid that Lilicrow had deteriorated to this point.

"What are you doing here, Serantha?" The exasperation in her voice instantly recognizable.

"Mirisa's worried." Serantha couldn't help but give a short, clipped response. Anything more and she risked giving free reign to her temper.

"She shouldn't be. She worries far too much." Lilicrow had also resorted to abrupt retorts.

"I've seen the house."

"…Mine to sell, isn't it?"

"So we're supposed to sit by and watch you fade?" Serantha was quickly loosing hold of what remained of her tranquil nature.

"You're supposed to leave me in peace!"

"Well maybe we would if you were at peace, girl!"

"Don't try to fix me, Sera. I'm not broken!"

"No, I've seen you broken. A broken Lilicrow is a force of nature. I've watched you take down a Troll three times your size with a dislocated shoulder and a shattered knee. The Lilicrow that I know would never have given up like this. You're not broken, Lil, you're destroyed. And gods forgive me, but I'm glad Mclon isn't here to see what you've become." Serantha immediately regretted mentioning his name the second she saw the flash of pain dancing its way across Lilicrow's face.

"I see him, Sera!" The strained, almost maniacal tone of her voice frightened Serantha. Immediately, all anger dissolved from the High Elf, and she fell silent. With barely a whisper, Lilicrow continued on. "I hear him, and I see him, and not just in my dreams…"

Daring to take a step closer to the much smaller Wood Elf, Serantha stretched out her hand to the shattered woman before her. "Lili…Give it to me."

The only reply Serantha received was a blank stare.

"You've carried it for a century, let me have it, hun."

Serantha had always known what Lilicrow kept in the small green pouch on her belt. Shortly after Mclon's death, she'd traveled to Kunark, claiming that she needed to see where he'd died. In reality, she'd found the surviving Drachnids from the assault and convinced them that their lives would be spared in exchange for a small sample of the poison they'd recently begun using. The very same poison that had stolen Mclon away from her. Of course, she'd killed the Drachnids once she'd secured the poison. Neither she nor Serantha lost much sleep over that little fact.

With a sigh of resignation, Lilicrow pulled the pouch from her belt and tossed it to Serantha. The magician removed a small vial from the purse and shook it, not trusting the contents to be intact. Closing the last of the gap between them, Serantha gently placed the dome covered rose in Lilcrow's hand.

"Let him go, Lili. Say goodbye, it's what you came to do, what you have to do."

Lilicrow simply nodded in agreement.

As she was spinning the vial of poison between her fingertips, Serantha knew what she had to do. She'd spent nearly a hundred years thoroughly researching the process but hoped she'd never have to actually attempt it. Now, however, she felt she had no choice but to follow through. There were a precious few people she could trust with this plan, and she knew she could not risk Lilicrow learning of her intentions. If Lilicrow had known, and the plan was unsuccessful, Serantha was certain that the fragile Elf would never survive the additional heartache.

"Lili, you know Kaleb will be asking about you. What shall I tell him?" Serantha asked softly.

"I just need some time alone with Mac. Do not tell him where I am though. Tell him I shall return home in a few days."

"It's going to be alright, Lili." Calling upon a portal to return her to her own guild house, Serantha chose that moment to take her leave.

"Yes. Perhaps it will."

Stepping through the portal into the main hall of her guild house, Serantha immediately looked to her assistant, a young human whom Serantha had raised since she her early adolescence.

"Peyton, do you remember the letter's I gave you?"

"Of course, Mistress."

"The time has come. Send them, please."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As Peyton hurried out of the room, Serantha couldn't help but add, "And stop with the 'Mistress' crap! You're like my daughter, Peyton!" Then, to no one in particular she added "Gods I hope they're all as good as they claim to be."

Lilicrow once again found herself sitting at the base of the statue which marked Mclon's grave. Pulling up her legs, she rested her head on her knees. Reaching up to caress the ring hanging from the chain around her neck, Lilicrow mindlessly spun it around her fingertip. The soft weight of it had, over the last century, alternately given her strength and broken her heart. For now, she would siphon every drop of strength she could from the keepsake.

"Hello, Mac… I'm sorry it took me so long to get here…. I… I guess I got a little lost. It's been hard since you've been gone. Truth be told, I don't know how I've made it."

After speaking her peace and laying decades of demons to rest, Lilicrow carefully placed the glass covered Halasian Rose at the feet of the statue. Looking up into his face one last time, she kissed her fingertips before dropping them softly onto the toes of the left boot of the statue. Bowing in a flourishing ceremonial curtsey, Lilicrow rose with a long forgotten lightness in her heart.

"Miles to go before I sleep, my lord."

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Still paying Sony to log on, so.. Guessing they still own them. I'm still taking credit for Lilicrow, and respective owners of other characters mentioned are graciously allowing me to toy with them at my leisure. Also, Peyton is my creation but I'm sure someone probably has a character with that name. Any similarity is pure coincidence. Oh and the last line is taken from "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening " by Robert Frost.

**Author's Notes: Okay, originally, this was a one shot. But after a bit of prodding, I decided to tone down the angst just a bit. I blame my love for my little plot bunnies and the repeated play of "Fully Alive" and "All Around Me" by FlyLeaf. Couldn't leave Lilicrow all defeated like that.. I mean, this story is about getting out all my own angst and crap and that's admitting my own defeat right? Like that's ever gonna happen! I THINK NOT!! It's shorter than I'd have wanted but I really wanted to get this up since I've gotten a few not so subtle reminders. The next part will be better, I promise. Typing it up sometime this week.**

**And as I reread this I kinda went "Why no Resurrection Spell for Big Mac?" None of my little plot bunnies caught that…tsk, tsk. Oh! And I kind of perverted the "Call Hero" (think that was it) spell to take a caster to a person rather than bring a person to the caster. So basically, my point is, Lili will be back.. And she probably won't be alone. Devilish Grin Working on actual "Misadventures of Lilicrow" now-got first six chapters or so and stuff after all this outlined and just itching to be typed out. Hope to post that soon but now working till midnight so not sure when it will actually be up. And parts of this will be included (ie: meeting and Mclon's death...and other stuff I've not quite posted yet HEEHEE). Basically I'm writing this damned book from both ends of the spectrum, I guess you could say! Ain't I an odd little turtle? Oh yea, '…' still represents thoughts. Bold text is words that are heavily emphasized in speech or thought. Lemme know if I'm missing anything else.**


End file.
